60. wrap threads of red silk around me

we, too, had gotten it all wrong more than once in our lives. we ran from desire instead of running towards it. disbelieved what mathematical induction could not prove, but what remains quite true: every pain, in every measure, can be counter-balanced by pleasure.

and i, the jagged tremor in your heart, the slight pause in your groan, am weak, for how many times i have surrendered to the illusion of lust?
but i shall find an excuse worth loving, a sentence worth of praise.

i am a woman. 
no, a girl.
but more than that, i cannot feel complete unless i am a pool, half-full, passion rising to the surface, black oil floating on translucent water. 

my heart is a pool collecting rivulets of desire in its basin, each drop – the sacred elixir of life. yes, i’ve changed. i used to say why be a man’s wife if you can be his mistress and now i’d rather say nothing at all.
now, i love you and you alone, but –

always a but-

i need the scarlet light to fall upon my form, if only to show off the violent carmine of my bullfighter’s cape.

my whole life is contained in the balance of virginal white and the shade of moonlight casting its fragile rays on lovers in the night. those colours merge to form my blood.
scarlet like the summer bloom of red roses, half-concealed by the shadows of rising sun.

and as i yearn for the chains of desire, wrap threads of red silk around me, dream me up sordid dreams.
i love you as you are, even if sometimes that’s not how it seems.

21. someone who i don’t want enough to love

resolution is still lost. questions posed, answers comatose.
and one question haunts me, a bat out of hell. 
why can’t i just say to X you know what, boy, it ain’t working, so lets just pretend that this never happened and walk out of each other’s lives. how bout that? 

but that’s a stupid question. and though i have to look deep inside myself for the answer, i know why.
i’m both cruel and wicked at times, and yet, my heart is not made of glass and his puppy eyes always stop me in my tracks of obliterating his dreams.

and it’s driving me crazy, this enforced entrapment by one single look. this fear of kicking to death someone who’s already down.
and i tried to say goodbye over the weekend, but he wouldn’t let me.
it’s like he sensed it coming, texting me, writing e-mails, calling persistently, telling me that we’ll get out of this rough patch and be as happy as we once were. he even got his friend to write me a message to ask me to give it one more shot. and tough i didn’t believe him that we’d be happy, because i never felt happy with him, it was too much effort to turn away and never look back. it was too much of something i didn’t have.

so, here i come, still in chains: never his, still not yours, tied by rules and conventionality to someone who i don’t want enough to love.
still a hunter, a white tigress on a prowl for her next piece of meat.

i may be wounded, but i’m not dead.